The Forgotten Ones (A Completed Steamy, Historical Romance)

September 29, 1863

"My wife was never mad and always has been fully intact. She is right to want to protect everyone ,and yes she may have paranoia, but it is understandable, is it not? You're trying to make her believe she is mad, but in truth, she understands the true harshness of this world. She loves deeply and only wants her family safe. How can she trust others to protect her, when Patrick was the only one that tried? She's taking the safety of our children in her own hands, and I expect nothing less. My wife is a casualty of war. Now, I'd like to visit my children, and when Naomi is ready to speak, I will be ready. Thank you, Mrs. Chapman."

I stood in the doorway and wondered how he knew. How can he understand so well when he wasn't the one raped? He hasn't even seen our daughters image. I jumped back on my horse and went out to do my security check. Now that Oliver is home, maybe Patrick will have more time on his hands to concentrate on Mae and let me be.

When the sun started to disappear, I went back home. I could smell the food cooking, but it made me feel ill. My mother's constant nagging about my weight is tiresome. I eat plenty, it may not be the amount she would like, but it is enough to sustain me. It's not like I'm providing nourishment to my daughter.

I'm aware my dresses no longer fit. Maybe with time, my grief will be more manageable, but for now it's not, and having Oliver home won't help.

The guilt of laying with Armstrong still eats me alive. The guilt of not doing more to protect our daughter provides a slow torture. My heart raced when I saw him, but was soon crushed when I remembered my deceit.

Walking back in, I was hesitant to see Oliver. I did my best to avoid him, but of course we were all expected at the dinner table.

"Mr. Westlake, please tell us the current state of affairs." My mother detests silence.

"I don't believe the dinner table is the best place to discuss today's problems, and to be honest I haven't heard much as of late." Oliver answer was not what I needed to hear. I need to hear the war is over.

"Tell us where you have been since your injuries. Why we haven't received word?" She cuts the meat on her plate.

"I would like to discuss that with my wife at a later point." He answered. Maybe he was layed up at one of those brothels. Why else would he not send his wife word after an injury?

"Tell me about the erecting of the new barn." He looked at Patrick.

"Yes, the townsfolk showed up one day, and we had it up in a week. We do have a credit at the lumber yard we need to settle, but no labor was charged." Patrick answered.

When dinner was over, I cleaned up my children and could feel his eyes on me. "Mama." Ollie tugged on my hair as I wiped him down. Then I turned to Elizabeth and she was still hiding her face. "Mama?" she whispered. "Yes, darling?" She peeked around me, then looked up at me. She has no idea what to think of Oliver.

"I'm taking the children to their beds."

Taking each ones hand, we slowly made it upstairs and to their room. I sang them the usual lullaby, and watched as their little eyes finally grew too heavy and they fell asleep. I could feel eyes on me the entire time.

"Excuse me." I said as I slid by my husband and went to my own room. "I'll sleep in a guest quarters." He said, and I nodded. "Please do leave Armstrong's be, he may come home soon." I kept busy by digging through my things, but I have no idea what I'm looking to find. I just don't want to look at him.

"Whenever you're ready to talk I'll be here, I have no plans to leave ever again." He stood there and looked at me.

"I don't think you're the one who's ready to hear what I have to say."

"I am ready, but not until you want to talk about it. I don't think you're ready." He said.

"If there's one thing I hate more than anything at the present time, it's when people say what they think I need. You cannot give me what I need, Oliver." I said.

"Then what is it?"

"Rose." I answered.

"I wish more than you can even imagine that I could bring her back. She was also my daughter." He took a step closer, but I backed up.

"I also want Armstrong back. Can you give me that?"

He turned white. "You take no joy in my return?"

"You're a stranger to me. Not one letter since our daughters death. You're obviously disgusted by me, just as I'm disgusted with myself."

"You know I couldn't, but I did send word when I could, Naomi. I wasn't having fun and not thinking about you. Is this really why you're upset? Talk to me, Naomi. Just be honest with me. What are you really feeling?"

"Like I don't want to talk about it anymore." I gathered his bed clothes. "Good night, Oliver."

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